pixie dust
by Ryfee
Summary: Sometimes you have to lie to save someone you love. — Toushirou x Karin. AU. :hiatus:
1. poppies

_Disclaimer: Bleach is not mine._  
_Dedicated to Pegy (aka Mare). For flying with me.__  
_

– ¤

**pixie dust**

––

one: poppies  
(_imagination, eternal rest, oblivion_)

* * *

Long, long ago fairies lived in our mind. Along with other mystical creatures, they were often depicted as beautiful beings with mesmerizing wings, billowing hair, enthralling eyes reflecting starry skies, smiles matching the sunshine.

Over centuries, their existence waned as the human mind grew stronger. They forsook superstition, pursuing what was right before their eyes, neglecting to acknowledge what couldn't be seen. Beliefs clashed, reasons challenged, fairies and their fellow mystical creatures began to fade when human's belief in them disappeared. Soon, these otherworldly creatures were trapped in nonexistent worlds called fairytales.

However, just because humans refused to believe that the creatures were there, it didn't mean they never existed.

It didn't matter whether they were visible, lived alongside us, or you believed in them or not.

Because they were still there, a shadow of our ignorance.

* * *

–

Eyelashes fluttering open, dark eyes roll down lazily, and a voice escapes her cherry lips in a deliberate drawl; "It's my nap time now. Why are you here?"

The person in question pulls orange strands of hair behind her ear, gazing up at her with soft yet determined eyes. "The Queen has requested of your presence."

The dark haired girl doesn't restrain her annoyance; a groan punctuates the still, afternoon air. When the orange-haired woman doesn't make any sign of leaving – just standing there, staring at her with trained patience – the girl finally sits up, red leaves rustling and bouncing in the small makeshift hurricane as she hops down, leaving her bed.

"I thought I could get some rest, or something. And the Queen… never actually does anything. Just eating candies and cakes."

The citrus-haired girl shoots her a look of disapproval, swiveling on her heels, starting for the exit. "Don't speak like that of the Queen. Besides, it's not like we can do whatever we can here. Our job is to lead the dead to eternal rest, and we're obliged to do it. Let's go, Karin."

Another sigh. The raven haired girl shakes her head, mumbling as she follows the older woman, the sound of their flapping wings soon pervading the calm afternoon.

–

* * *

Fairies guided wandering souls to eternal rest; illusive and beautiful, they implanted contentment and hopes inside their preys' hearts, subduing their struggle to haunt the earth by showing mirage, sweet, white lies.

The living would never know of their existence. Because the dead kept their secrets to the grave.

* * *

–

Dim, yellow light glows in the late afternoon shower, cuddling the mellow evening in paradoxical rendezvous. Verdant stalks bend in the breeze, rustling as a figure lands. A moment later she walks silently through the grass. The yellow bulbs – adjacent to each other – line up on her sides, as if making a pathway for her.

Trees thin, iridescent beams fall upon a clearing which is occupied by an exquisite throne; lavishly decorated in white and fuchsia ribbons, kaleidoscopic lights spraying, swirling around it. On the oversized throne, a petite girl with pink hair sits; a huge box of candies and cookies in her embrace, as her tiny fingers dig into the sea of multi-hued sweets.

"Fairy no.26, Karin."

Karin rolls her eyes in the direction of the authoritative voice, where a woman adjusts her glasses and stares down at a pile of papers.

"You're assigned to escorting someone to his _place_ today."

Meanwhile, the pink haired girl keeps eating her sweets raucously, heedless to other two.

Karin glances at the petite female, expelling a sigh, before diverting her attention to the woman with the glasses again. "Fine. Give me the data."

The dark haired woman hands Karin a paper.

She glances down at it, the unfamiliar name.

Karin shrugs and flies away; the smell of dying souls somehow sweet, almost sugary in her mouth.

The sky is now illuminated, incandescent as if fire has lit up the whole firmament. And she soars higher and higher, welcoming the bright spheres falling from the sky, ever so freely, like meteor shower.

–

* * *

They called this guiding process a game. A game that would be tainted with twisted truth and white lies, false contentment and deceptive hopes.

A game that would begin as soon as the stranger's name was spoken.

* * *

–

_The paper read:__ Hitsugaya Toushirou._

–

Outside, he sees all shades of blue – cerulean and azure and aquamarine and indigo – flashing into blurs, white specks trailing behind them, racing and chasing each other in their haphazard circus.

Then, a loud voice booms in his ears.

"_We require the passengers to remain seated and calm; everything is going to be okay—"_

Frantic shrieks, desperate screams fill the suspended air._  
_

Contrasting the occurring chaos, he remains impassive. In the inside, he lets the irony wash over him like acid rain; bitter and sharp and mockingly true.

Nothing's going to save them – no knight in shining armor, no angels, no savior, no miracle.

Of course everything is not going to be okay.

Another shake, and everything seems to break away; cataclysm is just around the corner, its dark claws clambering around their victims' necks.

And they aren't flying anymore.

–

* * *

When a human met his demise, everything around him would become vividly alive.

He remembered every second of it, as if everything had been nailed to his mind. And his head was throbbing as he savored the details – the burning smell, the clanking metal, the frantic screams, the rumble of failed engine, and after that they weren't flying anymore; the blue sky seemed to lunge forward, gravity pulling them in.

And before darkness completely took over, the only logical thing coming to his mind was: he was going to die.

And then, all was devoured by endless abyss.

* * *

–

He lies motionless on the ground.

He has lost track of time. He feels so peaceful somehow; it's so quiet, there's no pain, and he feels… oddly contended. The repose feels almost too blissful, and he just wants to sleep and let the exhaustion go away. He just wants to lie there forever, forget everything.

"Hey."

He fights the urge to open his eyes.

A female voice.

He keeps his eyes shut, ignoring it. It sounded distant, as if coming from far away. Maybe he was imagining it.

But something is now tugging at his hand, breaking his equanimity.

He muffles a groan and remains stationary, but it only makes the tug stronger and stronger.

"How long are you planning to lie there, seriously?" The voice speaks again, this time closer, irritated.

Giving in, he finally opens his eyes (because the tug and the voice are becoming unbearable), and he finds himself staring at a pair of midnight eyes, dark locks of hair falling down, obscuring her face.

The only logical thing he does is blink.

The raven haired girl draws away and places her hands on her hips; her ruby, translucent wings twinkling and jingling behind her. A smirk dances across her lips.

"Took you long enough, huh. Good morning, sleepy head."

– ¤

_& _**tbc.**

––

* * *

_**a/n**: I decided I didn't like the intro of pixie dust I'd posted yesterday, so I rewrote some parts and added new things, in hopes it would give a clearer vision of the universe and the general idea. However, I can't replace chapter one with this, as it will confuse those who have read the previous intro, so I repost this again. Sorry for the confusion._  
_I need to write something else between my Momentum updates, so here it is; yet another TouRin, this time AU. (Besides, this idea has been bugging me for quite a while, so.) I promise you'll see more TouRin-ness soon enough (and some fluffiness, perhaps?). Suggestions/opinions are very much welcomed, so please leave a review. Until the next chapter!  
_

_– Ryfee_


	2. sweetpea

**pixie dust**

––

two: sweetpea  
(_goodbye, blissful pleasure, departure_)

* * *

For what seems like eternity, he just stares at her. Her long dark locks billow slightly in the lazy afternoon zephyr, and her eyes, although dark, flash pearls as she paces around; her impatience is almost palpable as her restless strides ricochet off the hissing flowers around her feet.

As if spellbound, he's unable to move – only his turquoise eyes seem to work at the moment, as they roll and widen broader and broader with each passing second.

She's suddenly in front of him again, leaning down, and he can't help but avert his gaze over her shoulders, where her ruby translucent wings are. They are beautifully curved, seemly very thin and delicate; fine threads interweave and cross each other intricately. But the gossamer wings disappear in a blur of reds when she, losing her patience yet again, edges closer and harrumphs.

"Is your brain slow or something? C'mon, get up! We can't sit here forever!"

Blinking, he snaps out of his trance and furrows his eyebrows, shooting her a disapproving look. "My brain works just _fine_." Grumbling, he rises to his feet and leaves the snug ground and grass hesitantly, and voices out the first logical question coming to his mind: "Who—_what_ are you?"

He's surprised by his brusque enquiry, but it's already out and he can't take it back. He's never seen her before, and she's uncanny, and she has _wings_. Logic and coherent thoughts elude him, providing no answers to his enigmatic quandary.

He thought she would growl at his curtness, yet all he gets as a response is mild surprise, before being replaced by twinkling amusement across her face.

"Right to the point, huh? That's the kind of question better left unasked, you know. But you're a pretty interesting kid." She raises a brow as if speculating, the tip of her lips twitching.

He seethes at the taboo word. "I'm not a _kid_."

She almost grins. _Almost_. Half of her face is then concealed by a paper, which surface she skims over quickly. "Let's jump to the introduction, shall we?" A hand on her hip. "So, you're Hitsugaya Toushirou, a 15 year old boy residing in Tokyo, going to Karakura High School, having a… terrible social life?" At this, the dark haired girl raises both eyebrows and glances at him, quizzical.

He suddenly wants to come up to her and tear the paper to shreds. And asks who on the earth would write such thing—

"…your friends, although not many, adore you. Especially females. Women like to… touch your hair?"

Hitsugaya Toushirou stands unmoving.

Here he is, stranded somewhere with unfamiliar tangerine skies overhead, stunning viridian grass beneath him, exquisite flowers around his feet, and in front of him, a winged girl is reading… his life, and _embarrassing_ him. Literally.

Okay. He _must_ be dead.

There's a rustle of paper, and she approaches him with a wide smile plastered on her face. "So, you're Toushirou."

"Hitsugaya would be more—"

Their eyes lock for the briefest moment before she draws a hand to his head.

And ruffles his hair.

"I'm Karin, nice to meet you! As of today, I'll be your companion throughout our journey."

–

––

Toushirou scrutinizes his surroundings, savoring the alien details in demanding confusion.

This place is… too blissful. It's as if he's inside a beautiful painting: the trees are big, their verdant veils stretching out like umbrellas; flowers of different colors and shapes are strewn all over the green ground, slapdash splotches of diluted rainbow; the sedate sky is streaked with occasional white puffs of clouds, mellow in its tangerine repose.

And what enthralls him most is… _her_.

With a smirk, she drew away from him, and is now hopping forward as if dancing, each pace airy and the jingle of her wings mellifluous. Her bare shoulders glow faint yellows, and the tips of her dress ripple to the musical waltz of the air, her hair following suit in a flutter of jet tendrils.

He feels his preceding chagrin ebbing away, and his feet move toward her, as though enticed by her alluring presence.

"Karin." He practices the word on his mouth; even though it's unfamiliar, it tastes sweet and pleasant, and oddly… nostalgic somehow.

Karin turns her head at the call. "Yes?"

"What… who are you?" Jade grass rustles in protest beneath him. He catches up to her, deciding he better follows this mysterious girl if he wants to know more about his place, and why he's here. "I don't mean to be rude," he quickly adds, turquoise orbs flying to her back. "But I've never seen you, and you certainly are _strange_,"

Her rosy smile sends butterflies to his stomach, making it churn. "Still curious about me, aren't you?"

"Well, I have a lot of questions I'd like to ask you. First, who on earth made up those things on the paper—"

Her chuckle rings amiably in his ears, dispersing his questions and thoughts away in a sweep of melodic peals.

"You _really_ have no idea what I am?" Karin swivels around, exposing her red wings.

"I… well, how am I supposed to know that? It's not like I've ever seen you—" He stops, stares at her, and blinks.

Her smile is still there, waiting.

"…you can't be… a fairy?" He hazards, shocked and awed by the sudden revelation.

A mystical creature… from those children's books?

"Right! Wow, you're pretty fast, Toushirou!" She grins and elbows him. "I thank you for being smart, because I'd hate to recite the long introduction of pretty wings and fairies; they bore me to death. Let's get moving now, shall we?"

Still dazed, Toushirou gawks at her. He lets himself being dragged by the raven haired girl, when a question pops up in his mind, almost forgotten but now flashing red amidst his flustered thoughts.

"Where am I?"

Their paces slow. He finally releases his breath, and the scenic vista around him flickers different hues – indigos and vandyke browns and grays seeping and blending with his surroundings.

Suddenly, he hears screams; he sees fires instead of swaying grass, smoke instead of clouds—

"Toushirou?"

Only then does he realize he's clutching to his head, breathless. "I… I was on the plane. The failed engine… the turbulence, the fires—Karin, I'm… I'm supposed to be…"

He tries to inhale, but the air feels like splinters shredding the inside of his nose.

"…I'm supposed to be… dead."

The word cuts the silence between them mercilessly.

Then, the ghostly scene retreats, hauling and plunging the grotesque pictures into shadows of the ever-blissful landscape, silent once again.

The wind stirs his white hair. Sweet scent wafts over him. Flower buds nod and brush against each other, whispering.

Is he in Heaven?

––

–

Her countenance is incomprehensible, and he wonders what she's thinking because for one split second, she looked as though she was in pain. Whatever it was, the dark shroud has been lifted and she's smiling again, although not as wide as before.

"Yes, Toushirou, you're supposed to be dead."

He's accustomed to hearing the word in his head, but to let it fly freely in the calm air, stirring minuscule hurricanes in his head, knocking his mind's barriers – it's such an odd feeling, as if death and dying are something to smile about or natter in a pleasant afternoon.

"Hey, don't give me that look!" Karin tugs to him again. "Worry not, Toushirou; you are not officially dead _yet_." Her smile intensifies, and he can only roll his eyes, flustered. "You… haven't forgotten, have you?" Her expression darkens, her question laced with empathy.

"I was on the plane. I can remember… everything." Toushirou instinctively raises his hands; pain is clobbering his skull.

Karin mumbles inaudibly. "Okay then. Before we waste any more time, let me give you a brief explanation. As you already guessed, I'm a fairy, and you're in a fairyland. You're not dead yet, although you probably think you are. Ever heard of souls and the likes? Yeah, that. My job is to guide your soul back to your place – the earth."

His eyes widen.

So he's not _dead_ yet? He still can go back…?

He should revel in that simple fact, but all he does is gaze at her, copious emotions enveloping him.

Going back?

His home…?

"Anyway," She snaps him out of his trance. "It isn't as easy as it sounds."

"What do you mean?"

"We have to go through some _stuff_ first."

They reach a clearing, below them emerald valleys slant throughout the area, white flowers lifting their thrones skyward, defiant.

Toushirou looks incredulously at her; this is the end of the path, she can't be expecting them to jump down the hill, can she?

Karin unbraids the chain around her waist and brings a crimson pendant up, beckoning for him to come closer. "Hold this; only you can reveal the _door_."

Befuddled, Toushirou accepts the pendant, smooth and cool in his palms, and it glistens dim ruby, sending chills down his spine. Chimes shrill and rebound in the open skies, causing him to jerk his head upward.

Out of nowhere a giant door appears, pallid against the warm heavens.

"Remember when I said I'll be your companion throughout our journey?" Toushirou twists his head to her. Karin points her index finger at the door. "We have to go through this first. It's like a… realm created by your soul."

He just stands there, dumbstruck, information going in and out of his ears and head, yet he cannot seem to grasp any of them – they slip through his fingers, intangible like water. He's clamped by something invisible, forcing his questions and thoughts and actions stagnant.

He wants to ask her so many questions, but he can't remember any of them. And all he sees is white. The color of nothingness, the absence of everything.

She's hovering in the air, the tinkles of her wings enticing, and she marches toward him as if walking on dais. Reaching out a hand, she smiles. "Come. It's time."

He doesn't take her hand. "Where to?"

"The place where you belong."

The equivocal statement is easy to swallow, but hard to digest. For what seems like hours, he just stares at her, trying to recall their conversations.

"_You're not dead yet, although you probably think you are. Ever heard of souls and the likes? Yeah, that. My job is to guide your soul back to your place – the earth."_

Back to the earth? Is that where the door will eventually lead to?

He'll be able to see his friends again. He'll be able to see — and — and they can talk together, and—

He should be happy. But he crinkles his eyes.

Home?

Where is his home?

A place where warmth is perpetual regardless of seasons, a place where smiles and laughs are stored and cherished, a place where the littlest moments are as big and precious as Christmas presents, a place that will always holler you to come back, glistening like a beacon amongst your darkest hours, offering hope and comfort.

Her hand catches his. The grass and trees and flowers are becoming further and further away.

The giant door opens, spilling light all over him, wintry wind blowing white strands of hair. He steals a last glance at the view below, before being embraced by cold gusts somewhat familiar.

What if…

What if he _doesn't _want to go back?

His notion vanishes in a burst of white as he loses his balance; the last thing he sees is Karin, welcoming his fall.

And all he can think of is how she contradicts the cold atmosphere behind the door – warm and pleasant, she smells like summer.

After that, all goes black.

–

––

* * *

_a/n: I'm sooo sorry for the late update. It's been months, I know. But I can't help it. Momentum has been demanding my attention, and since this is a short chaptered fict, I thought the long updates wouldn't really matter. At least here it is now.__  
__I'm trying to gain my sanity back, as more and more ideas invade my mind, and I can't help but write them... I really need a remedy to this. Hopefully chapter 3 will come faster.  
__Oh, and apparently, I'm obsessed with flowers and their meanings._  
_Thanks for reading, and hope you enjoyed! Reviews would be lovely._

_ — Ryfee_


End file.
